


The Sun Will Blind My Eyes (I'll Love You Anyway)

by agentpluto



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Sexual Content, Tender Sex, it's to make up for all the soul-crushingly depressing comics I keep releasing tho tbh, this is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written for these two jfc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-11-02 01:24:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10934076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentpluto/pseuds/agentpluto
Summary: After everything that happened, it takes a while for it to sink in.But it does, eventually, and Cullen's just happy they both made it out alive.





	The Sun Will Blind My Eyes (I'll Love You Anyway)

It takes time for things to go back to normal after the Inquisitor and her party came back from sealing the Breach for good, but eventually it happens.

Less paperwork, no more preparation for huge assaults on Corypheus’ forces. The Inquisition had time to rest, to recover, to find some kind of normality without the need to save the world anymore. 

Cullen’s office had finally become just that, with his personal belongings finally moved up to the Inquisitor’s quarters. Together they could sleep and eat and _live_ , without all the late nights spent at a desk far away from the warmth of each other’s presence.

Barely awake in their bed one morning with Amalthea right there next to him, it’s in that moment where it really hits him.

She’s alive. They’re all alive.

Thedas, after months upon months of travel, preparation and war, is finally safe.

The thought is banished to the back of his mind, however, when she nuzzles her way up under his chin, leaving soft kisses against the stubble of his jaw in her wake. Without opening his eyes, he can make out the golden light that shines behind his eyelids, the morning light filling the air with warmth that melts away the chill of the night. Amalthea’s body is held against his and he feels the heat radiating from her form. Her breasts press against him and it’s a contact he relishes in, savouring the way her body molds to his figure and he’s not quite sure if he’s still awake. The way they move is dream-like, slow and in a shining haze through which he feels one of the Inquisitor’s hands trace abstract patterns on its way down from his chest to rest on his abdomen.

When he finally opens his eyes, he feels like the breath is stolen from his lungs. Maker preserve him, she’s gorgeous. The light filtering through the room’s huge windows turns her skin to honey, her hair to fire, haloing her naked form in warm yellows and golds as she sits up just enough to press a gentle kiss to his lips.

“Good morning,” she murmurs, her lips grazing his as she barely pulls back. He can’t help but smile back.  
“‘Morning,” he replies.  
Amalthea rests her forehead on his and he watches her close her eyes and sigh contentedly from his position beneath her. His hand comes up to cradle the side of her face, the warm skin of her cheek pressing against his palm as she turns her head to press a kiss there.

“Do you have anything you need to do this morning,” she asks, looking back down at him, “or do I get to have you all to myself?”

“Mmm, I have to do a thing.”  
He starts to shift his hand down, careful hands ghosting over her collarbone, over her left breast and the scars etched into it.  
“A thing?”  
His hand moves ever lower, over her stomach and finding the heat of her between her legs.  
“Mmhm,” he hums, and lets himself grin a little more as he hears the soft gasp escape her lips. “It’s a good thing it's here, next to me.”

Even with his fingertips just barely brushing against her clit, she still manages to let out a little snort of a laugh and press her face into his shoulder in an attempt to suppress her giggles.

Part of Cullen dies, just a little bit, knowing he’ll never hear anything else quite as perfect as her laugh.

Most of the feelings of sentimentality are promptly thrown out the window though as he feels the curl of fingers around his half-hard cock. He gasps at the contact, and she turns her head just enough for him to catch her lips in another kiss. 

Her hand gives lazy pulls, more than happy to coax little sounds out of him as he tries to buck up into her touch. Both their hands moving, touching. His fingers sliding in and curling just enough to send her hips twitching towards the movement. Her hand twisting gently as she strokes him, thumb running over the head and leaving him to break the kiss for just long enough to let out a low, quiet groan.

It eventually gets too much. Cullen feels his end approach and he pulls his hand out from between her thighs, a motion that causes Amalthea to stop and look up at him. Her hand withdraws, settling on his thigh as she shifts upward with that ever-gentle smile gracing her features.

As she sits up, Cullen’s gaze draws up her body. The ever-present scarring that etches its way through her flesh seems to glow in the light, and shadows catch on the harsh warped skin. He almost wants to cry. Despite it all, the scars and calluses, despite the hardships and war, she remains soft. Seeing her in the morning light just reminds him. She is soft and warm and glowing and _alive_ despite everything the last couple of years has thrown at her.

“Hey,” her voice is as gentle as her touch as her hand cups his cheek, pulling him from his thoughts and wiping away a tear from the subbly skin as he blinks his vision clear. “It’s okay, Cullen.”

It’s then when he realises that Amalthea’s eyes are filled with tears too, a couple running down her face as she closes her eyes.

She presses her forehead to his once more and just stays there a moment, content to revel in the feeling of being alive and safe and happy. She shifts, slowly, one leg over his hips to straddle him. As she sits and settles, she wipes her own tears with the back of her hand.

“Are we good?” She asks.

“We’re good.”

And with that, Amalthea’s eyes flutter shut and her head falls back, exposing the line of her throat to the sun’s golden rays as she lets out a quiet gasp. Cullen’s hands grip her hips as she finally sinks onto him, rocking a couple of times as she works herself down. Her eyes flicker back open and looks at him with an expression so tender, so full of love, he feels tears pricking his eyes again.

She leans down and kisses him, once on the forehead, then on the nose, then softly on his lips as both her hands cradle his jaw. She doesn’t say anything, she doesn’t _need_ to say anything, she just slowly starts to roll her hips. Moving together unhurried and almost lazily. They didn’t have to rush, not now.

He’s not quite sure how long they take. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. He didn’t care, really. But eventually his grip on her hips tighten, everything tightens, his fingers pressing so hard into the skin he’s sure that there’ll be bruises left behind. Amalthea doesn’t seem aware of it though, her little noises tumbling into barely coherent murmurs, begging for _just a little further, oh Maker please keep going_.

It seems almost all at once, their backs arch as they come within moments of each other. Their bodies go taught, Amalthea shuddering around him as he loses himself inside of her, shaking with the intensity of his release. He’s barely aware of her gasping out his name as his movements slow, and together they eventually collapse.

Amalthea rolls off him and onto the mattress beside him, still breathless. His chest is still heaving from the effort and his eyes must have closed at some point, because they open to see her, a sheen sweat covering her skin making it almost shimmer in the morning sunlight. She turns to look at him for a moment and he stares back, their gazes meeting, dazed and speechless. That’s before a wide grin breaks out on her face. The grin gives way to giggles, and she rolls to bury her face into the pillow next to the crook of Cullen’s neck and shoulder.

He can’t stop himself from smiling, and turns over enough to wrap his arms around Amalthea’s squirming, giggling figure. Joy, pure and and unabashed joy, made him start to laugh too. His chest rumbles with exhausted, almost disbelieving laughter as the two of them hold each other. After everything, the late nights at his desk, the early mornings training his troops. After the days, weeks, months of the Inquisitor in the field never knowing if she’ll make it back. After all the pain and exhaustion Inquisition had brought them. He's happy.

They'd made it through alive _._

**Author's Note:**

> u can't tell me that cullen wouldn't a) fail to be smooth during foreplay and b) cry during sex  
> srry if this drabble turned out a lil rough, this didn't have a beta and I haven't properly written since uni (also this makes two for two on Amalthea fics on my Ao3 being nsfw. rip. I swear I'll post some of her actual long fic at some point.)  
> Title is from the song Vapour Trail by Ride bc it's gorgeous and you should defs give it a listen if u can!


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